


Enterprise Alpha

by triedunture



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, Jaeger Pilots, Kaiju, M/M, Mind Meld, Minor Character Death, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pacific Rim!AU. Spock was a jaeger pilot before Vulcan was overrun by the kaiju menace. Now he must find a new co-pilot and help protect Earth from a similar fate. But is James T. Kirk, the Federation's best and brightest, really meld-compatible with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enterprise Alpha

"Warning, warning," the female computer voice said calmly, "incoming category three. Repeat: incoming category three. Crimson Seleya team, report to drop deck."

Spock opened his eyes, his transparent second lid sliding back into place. He stared for 1.1 seconds at the metal ceiling of his shared bunker before swinging down to the floor, where T'Pring was already pulling on her flight suit.

"Kaiju en route, codename Jellyfish. Preliminary reports mention multiple tentacles," she said, not bothering to look at Spock as she tossed her padd in his direction. He caught it without looking either; sharing his mind and memories with his co-pilot meant they were unnaturally in-sync even now, bleary and sleep-deprived and readying themselves for yet another mission.

Spock studied the padd while yanking on the thin mesh that served as his flight suit's underlayer. "We must neutralize it before it makes landfall in Gol." The city was particularly vulnerable after the last blue-blooded monster crashed through 3.2 months prior. The Crimson Seleya had taken down that kaiju as well, codename Anemone. It had been Spock and T'Pring's seventh mission and their seventh kill.

"Stay focused," T'Pring reminded her bondmate as they finished clasping their boots to their feet.

The drop deck was abuzz with activity. The majority of the crew were Vulcan, but several Terran and Andoran personnel were on loan from the Federation. Vulcan was the shining jewel in the Federation's crown, symbolizing peace and progress, and its defense was top priority. But the beasts were working their way through the galaxy, devouring planet after planet. If Vulcan were to fall—

"Spock," T'Pring said sharply. She always sensed when his thoughts were wandering from their proper target.

"My apologies," Spock murmured as a uniformed crewman screwed his neural spinal column to the back of his flight suit. A handful of bolts tightened and he was locked into the carbon-fiber casing. He donned his helmet as T'Pring did, their Vulcan features lit up by the eerie yellow glow of their visor sensors.

"Who's ready to send this three-bee back to the briny deep?" the voice of their chief engineer asked in their earpieces.

"Vulcan seas contain considerably less saline than your oceans, Mr. Scott," Spock replied. T'Pring lifted an eyebrow.

"Pay him no mind, Montgomery," she said. "I, for one, agree with your sentiment."

"That's my favorite Vulcan. Now strap in and let this lady loose. Seleya needs a workout, I say."

They stepped into the cockpit, the bipedal controls reaching for and securing around their boots. The head dropped into its place on the jaeger's body, a short, quick journey that Spock privately found exhilarating. Seleya whirred and clicked until she was whole.

"Pilots secure," Spock reported, checking their oxygen gaskets.

"Powering up." T'Pring keyed their terminals to life.

"Initiating neural handshake," Scotty's thick accent echoed through their headsets. "Get ready for the meld, lovelies."

Spock closed his eyes and let the silence overtake him before the rush of _his mother's face across the table T'Pring's first kiss with the boy named Stonn a sweet fruit picked from the garden the lab table with the wobbly leg yellow curtains worn books T'Pring brushing her hair in front of the mirror and—_

Silence. Slowly drifting back to the surface. The familiar presence of his bondmate in his mind.

"Handshake complete. Meld looks good," Scotty said. "Left hemisphere online."

Spock and T'Pring lifted their left arms in unison.

"Right hemisphere online."

The same with their right arms. Together they lifted their fists, and Seleya lifted hers. They guided her as one. The only way the huge machine could be controlled with two minds. Spock had been fortunate; not many could claim this skill. They were a perfectly matched meld-pair.

"Listen up, you two," a familiar voice grunted through their comm systems. Marshal Leonard McCoy sounded grumpier than usual, perhaps due to the late hour. "Your orders are to defend the miracle mile. Gol does not need another sixty trillion credits' worth of damage in its seaport. Think you can handle that, green-bloods?" The bay doors opened for them, revealing a stormy sea.

"Yes, sir," Spock and T'Pring answered in unison. McCoy was gruff but he was their commanding officer and the overseer of the most jaeger victories in the whole of the Federation. It was best not to argue with him, though Spock usually found a reason to.

"Marshal, sensors indicate a small fishing vessel 7.3 kilometers off the coast. Permission to effect rescue," he said.

"Permission denied, Mr. Spock. We can't risk it."

T'Pring and Spock shared a look. Words were unnecessary when their minds shared a single thought.

"Illogical," T'Pring said anyway, off-comm for Spock's ears only. "We can save both the ship and the city. One need not suffer for the other."

"I agree." Spock put their new target coordinates into Seleya's system. "We should move quickly before the Marshal notices our position."

"On the double, then. Keep up with me." They lifted their feet simultaneously and began moving at a brisk run. Crimson Seleya sprinted into the waves, her machinery groaning satisfactorily all around them. Spock felt T'Pring's eagerness to see this kaiju's blood spilled, and he responded with a surge of his own desire. In that moment, running to face the monster head-on with a monster of their own making, Spock felt _right_ , like the world was a puzzle in which his piece fit perfectly. He was born to do this, there was no other rational explanation.

"Visual contact. Jellyfish bearing six-two mark three," T'Pring said.

Spock cupped his palm around the computer simulation of the tiny fishing boat that was currently bobbing at his knee. "Seeing the ship to safety."

McCoy's transmission crackled through Spock's earpiece. "What the hell are you doing!? I thought I was pretty clear about—"

Spock ignored his Marshal's shouts. He and T'Pring turned to the right and gently set the fishing boat adrift back toward Gol just as the Jellyfish's tentacles wrapped around Seleya's legs.

"Compensating," T'Pring grunted. They staggered, brought their fists down on the squash-shaped head of the screaming kaiju on their left flank. Sensors reported a direct hit. Neon blue blood spattered their view-screens and slicked the surface of the water. The beast sank under the waves.

"That makes eight kills," Spock said.

"Simple," T'Pring said with almost a sigh. She turned in unison with Spock to make sure the fishing boat was on its way to safe harbor, but Scotty's voice crackled across the bay to them.

"I'm getting a signal! The beastie's still breathing!"

"Impossible," Spock said. "Its skull shattered on impact."

But even as he said it, the kaiju screamed to the surface once more, its mangled face filling their view screens with its gaping wounds.

"Plasma cannon online." Spock brought his fist back, his circular control bangle whirling and lighting up in a multitude of colors.

"Empty the clip," T'Pring cried. "Empty it!"

Too late. The kaiju was on them. A tentacle wrapped around the right arm, Spock's side, and wrenched it from Seleya's shoulder. The neural relays on Spock right arm lit up in a shower of sparks, burning a neural map pattern into his skin. He cried out in pain.

A razor-sharp talon stabbed through the chest plate, dangerously close to T'Pring's station. "Spock!" she screamed.

_Her father pinning her pilot's badge to her uniform the dark of her mother's eyes shining with unexpressed pride_

Her mouth formed words that he understood before she said them. "Stabilize the—"

The talon retracted, then surged forward again, clawing T'Pring out of the jaeger cockpit and into the saltwater air. Her body pinwheeled away, limbs reaching for salvation even at that hopeless moment. Spock reached too, calling helplessly for his bondmate as she fell out of sight.

"T'Pring!"

_I do not wish for death, I do not wish for death, I—_

Pain. Silence. A slicing, terrifying silence.

"No!"

_Stonn clasping his hand around hers the first sight of the Seleya in her dock bright and beautiful and glowing like a star_

The plasma cannon fired, though Spock didn't understand how he managed it on his own. Jaeger mechanics required both pilots to share the neural load and T'Pring was— _in my head in my head she's still here in my head_ —not plugged in.

Spock fired again. Again. An unending series of blasts. Direct hits to the kaiju's head, chest, stomach. Explosions of viscera and toxic blue fluids. Then—

Seleya was breaking apart around him, alarms blaring. The kaiju's howls, distant. Blood seeped through the plates of Spock's flight suit. Green slickness down his side. Burns on his skin where his armor had fused. Spock's knees buckled. Seleya's knees buckled. They genuflected in the sea.

"Spock to base," he croaked. The comms buzzed but didn't answer. "Ranger Spock to—" He shut his eyes against a fresh wave of pain. "Co-pilot has been compromised. I—"

"Communications offline," the computer said.

"I cannot—"

"Navigation offline," the computer said.

"I am alone."

"Life support offrrrrrrrrrrm." The internal lights went dark, leaving Spock gasping through his cracked helmet, heart hammering in his side. Blood dripped from his nose to his lips.

"Please don't leave me here," he whispered.

The ocean beat against the battered hull of the Seleya. No one answered.

~@~

Six years later.

Much had changed. Spock lived. He'd survived the Second Battle of Gol, as it was named, by piloting the ruined husk of the Crimson Seleya solo across 8.9 kilometers of open ocean. He'd been found on the beach next to the wreckage, broken, bleeding out, unresponsive to all questions and touches. T'Pring screams were still fresh in his mind. He asked for her again and again. It was days before he finally understood: she was dead and he lived. Somehow.

Vulcan was not so fortunate, if such a word applied. Spock's homeworld was taken by the kaiju in the end. Nine other jaegers fell the same month that Seleya did, and the Vulcan high council decided they could not put their faith in the jaegers any longer. Vulcan was evacuated. Spock had left with the rest of the refugees, was placed in a work program as many others were. That was where McCoy found him: at his post on New Vulcan at the Vulcan Science Academy, working on his section of the Wall of Life project.

"So this is what they've got you doing?" the familiar gruff voice rang out in the small, dingy laboratory. "Designing some piece of crap that won't stop a fart?"

Spock lifted his head from his instruments. "Marshal. I see your opinion of my work has not wavered since last we met."

McCoy folded his overcoat over his arm and leaned against one of the lab tables with a put-upon glare. "Now, Mr. Spock, you know if I really thought so little of you, I wouldn't be here."

"You have come to recruit me again?" Spock's eyebrows lifted into his bangs.

"I've got a Mark 3 refit with your name on it."

"Surely I was not your first choice."

"There aren't any Mark 3 pilots left alive, Spock," McCoy said. "You were my only choice."

Spock considered this in silence for a moment. Had the situation on Earth really become so dire? After Vulcan fell, the kaiju had eaten through the planet's resources in 1.2 years, leaving behind only a shell of superheated crust and ash, which collapsed before any attempt could be made to revive it. Soon thereafter, a new nexus opened, this time under the Terran ocean. The kaiju used this breach—a wormhole between galaxies, Spock theorized, though the VSA had given him no support to pursue this line of thinking—to invade, just as they had on other Federation planets. Now they were attacking McCoy's homeworld, Mr. Scott's as well. It pained Spock to think of his old compatriots losing their Earth.They had already given so much to protect a planet that wasn't even their own.

McCoy gestured to the three-dimensional diagram on Spock's workstation. "To hell with this wall. You and I both know it won't stop the damn things. Come with me to Earth. They've given me one last shot, set me up at the old base in San Francisco. I've got a plan, but I need pilots. Not many. Only got four jaegers left, anyway."

A frisson of shock was hidden by rote. "I did not know there were so few."

The Marshal shrugged. "After that debacle at Shi'Khar, Terrans started thinking maybe the jaegers were what put Vulcan at risk in the first place: too much hope pinned on too few pilots. They didn't see what we saw. You saved cities, Spock. You kept those kaiju at bay longer than anything else could have."

A flash of old memory: T'Pring's face radiant behind her helmet's shield. Spock shook his head. "I did not protect anything," he said softly. "Not well enough. Please leave me to my work."

He attempted to turn back to his instruments, but McCoy grabbed the back of his chair and loomed over him, bellowing, "Dammit, man, the universe is ending! Now, do you want to die in a lab or do you want to die in a _jaeger_?"

Spock thought of where T'Pring had died, and how he ached to follow her. He still dreamed of her at night, of footsteps that matched his own. He looked at the pitiful schematics on his workstation, then looked at the lined face of his former Marshal.

They were on the next transport to Earth.

~@~

Shatterbase straddled the bay, an installation of rock and metal built from the ruins of San Francisco, where the first kaiju had caught the Terrans unaware mere days after Vulcan's planet-death. The base sat wreathed in heavy mist, battered by salt waves and cold winds. Spock stepped out of the transport vessel wishing he had worn a thicker coat.

The landing pad was chaotic with activity, crew members scurrying in all directions. But in the middle of this chaos stood one lone, still figure dressed in black under a black umbrella. The man turned and saw Spock, their eyes locking. Neon blue, like kaiju blood. Spock had never seen eyes like that before, let alone on a Terran. He stared until Marshal McCoy brushed past him with a grumble.

"Mr. Spock, this is James T. Kirk, one of our best and brightest," he said. Kirk finally looked away from Spock to hand McCoy an umbrella of his own, which he opened against the persistent bay drizzle.

"I pictured him differently," Kirk said to the Marshal in an obscure Orion dialect. McCoy merely pursed his lips.

Spock felt compelled to answer, also in Orion: "I apologize if I do not meet your expectations."

Kirk blinked, his face flushing a strange pink. Then, recovering, he said in Standard, "I'm sorry. I was just surprised. You—" He shook his head. "Nevermind. Come on, the hangar is this way."

He turned and led the way inside, striding quickly. McCoy followed with a wry look Spock could not decipher.

"This place used to hold thirty jaegers, all primed to respond to any coastal threat," McCoy called over the noise and bustle once they were inside. "Now we've only got the Federation's leftovers. I'm hoping they'll be enough. This one's the Mbaya Gage." He pointed to the sleek, glossy jaeger sitting in the first bay. "Piloted these days by the Bloodwives. You heard of 'em?"

"Yes, word of their battles has reached even New Vulcan," Spock said. He caught a glimpse of the wives playing a traditional game of ball as they walked by. Gaila was a green-skinned Orion and the other was a Terran named Uhura. Uhura was using her superior height to her advantage, but Gaila compensated with an excellent block. Uhura called out to Kirk as they passed, and he responded with a smile and a shout of his own: "Hey yourself, Nyota!" Spock found it an intriguing change to the serious expression he had worn since Spock's arrival.

"Fifteen drops, fifteen kills. Fastest jaeger in the world. Got plans for her." McCoy kept his brisk pace, approaching the feet of a giant bronze jaeger next. "Echo Defiant, the last Mark 1 standing. Successfully defended the Siberian line for five years. Used to be piloted by the Chekov brothers, but we lost Pietro last year. Cancer, if you can believe the rotten luck." McCoy shook his head. "The surviving brother, Pavel, requested a new co-pilot. That's who he's teamed up with now: Hikaru Sulu. Those boys won't let anything past that tank."

Spock watched the two men standing at the Defiant's feet; they could only be Chekov and Sulu. They were speaking animatedly about something to do with the weapons systems if their gestures to the elbow rocket were any indication, and they couldn't seem to suppress their feedback-loop excitement. Spock quelled the envy that threatened to overtake his heart at the sight. T'Pring had often engaged in such conversations with him, albeit in a more muted Vulcan tone. The hole his best friend had left still hurt, even after all these years.

"And here we have Fearless Horizon," McCoy said, gesturing to the next jaeger in the line, a shimmering blue bulk. Spock glanced at Kirk in an attempt to divine what, if anything, he thought about this machine, but the other man's gaze was fastened firmly on him. Spock blinked and refocused his attention on what the Marshal was saying. "—by the Pike twins. He calls her One, she calls him Two. They're the most experienced pilots we've got."

Spock nodded to the pilots as they passed. The statuesque woman tipped her chin in reply but did not stir from her place, lounging against the railing of a support platform. The man eyed them and said nothing.

"I was under the impression that the Pikes were identical twin brothers," Spock said.

Kirk made a slash-across-the-throat gesture. "We don't call them brothers anymore. Do me a favor and update your mental records, okay?"

Spock nodded. "Understood."

"Hey, let me show you to your jaeger," Kirk said, pointing the way with his padd. "I oversaw the refit myself. It's, well, it's pretty unbelievable, I think you'll agree." Spock couldn't divine a clear path through the chaos. Sidestepping a man in a hovercart, he turned to McCoy.

"Before we do that, perhaps you should tell me what the mission is, and how you expect me to pilot a jaeger by myself."

"We'll get you a new bondmate, don't worry about that," Marshal McCoy said with a wave of his hand.

"I, uh, handpicked some candidates for you already," Kirk said. Spock whirled to face him at that admission. Kirk stared down at his padd, scrolling through a list of names. "Yeah, studied your fighting style, all your battles, the whole nine yards."

"And you believe you have found a compatible pilot?" Spock asked.

Kirk met his gaze then, blue eyes blazing. "Should be at least one you can live with in the pile," he said.

"And if there is not?"

Kirk grinned, white teeth flashing like a challenge. "Then we'll get some well-trained mice to pilot your jaeger for you."

McCoy cleared his throat. "Gentlemen." Kirk instantly snapped to attention. "You're right about one thing, Spock. I need to tell you what the plan is. The nexus on the ocean floor? It's growing. More traffic means a bigger rift means a bigger target. So we're strapping a warp core to Mbaya Gage and sending her to blow the thing shut for good. The other jaegers will run defense, make sure she gets a clear shot at dropping the package."

"How did you manage to procure an active warp core without the Federation's support?" Spock asked.

"Those Russians." McCoy hooked a thumb over his shoulder at where Chekov was still chattering away. "They can get their hands on anything."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "This plan has an elegant simplicity—"

"Thanks," Kirk said with a smile.

"—though, of course, we will need to solve the problem of the nexus' dilation, as this has been tried before," Spock finished.

Kirk coughed into his first. "Yeah, I'm working on that."

"You have devised this strategy yourself?"

"Well, yeah. Between refitting these shellheads and training with the other pilot-hopefuls, I've been monitoring the nexus data." Kirk shrugged.

"Told ya. Best and brightest," McCoy grunted. "Now go show Spock his new girl, kid."

"This way." Kirk reached out and gripped Spock's wrist in his hand. Normally Spock would have balked at the contact; Vulcans were touch telepaths, and brushing against an unknown mind, even faintly, could prove very uncomfortable for both parties. But to his shock, he found Kirk's touch unobtrusive. Even soothing. He allowed himself to be led across the busy hangar floor, following Kirk's weaving path. One glance over his shoulder showed a stern McCoy disappearing as the crowd blocked him from sight.

"I know you're going to love her. I mean, I hope you do." Spock did not bother to correct Kirk on his estimation of the Vulcan capacity to 'love' an inanimate object. "She's special. One of a kind. Got a warp core heart, new phaser cannons, the works." Kirk turned sharply and led Spock around a giant support pillar. Through a cloud of steam, the silver hulk of a jaeger became visible. Spock slowed, then stopped, taking in the sight. Kirk's hand remained fastened to his wrist. With his free hand, Kirk gestured to the machine.

"I give you the Enterprise Alpha," he said. "What do you think?"

"Her skeleton," Spock whispered. "The Crimson Seleya."

"Yeah, I—" Kirk seemed to realize he was still holding Spock's wrist and dropped it with a sudden jerk. "I told you, it's a refit. McCoy had the parts shipped from New Vulcan. I couldn't believe it when it showed up in the hangar. There hasn't been a skeleton like hers before or since."

Spock said nothing, still staring up at her familiar shape.

Kirk shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Hey, if you're angry about me using her—"

"Anger is illogical," Spock said sharply.

"Right. I mean, if you don't like her, I get it. I didn't think how it would be, seeing her again like this." Kirk ducked his head.

"No, you misunderstand." Spock grabbed Kirk's hands in his own, a foolish gesture he didn't quite know he would make before he did. "You brought her back to me, in a way. I...give you my thanks."

Kirk smiled then, a real smile with no violence to it. His hands squeezed Spock's in return. "Anytime."

~@~

Spock dropped the fifth candidate to the mat with a flick of his kendo stick. This pilot-hopeful, like all the other candidates he'd faced this afternoon, was Vulcan. That was only logical; Vulcans were known to bond only within their species due to their innate telepathy. However, it seemed that none of these pilots could match Spock in a fair fight.

"Four to one," Kirk called out from the sidelines with a heavy sigh. He made a notation on his padd. McCoy stood silently and grimly beside him. "Next candidate—"

"Why do you do that?" Spock finally spoke up.

Kirk kept his gaze on his padd. "Do what?"

"Why do you sigh when these candidates are ones you have chosen? If their performance disappoints you, you have only yourself to blame."

Kirk looked up then, eyes flashing. The small crowd of crew members and jaeger pilots that had gathered in the Shatterbase gym murmured amongst themselves.

"It's not their performance, Mr. Spock," he said. "It's yours. You could have taken down that last opponent in two moves, but you didn't."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

Kirk nodded. "It is. But hey, maybe you've just gotten soft since your last drop."

A definite _ohhhhhh_ from the crowd now. Spock felt the tips of his ears heat with suppressed anger. "Perhaps you would like to join me on the mat and prove your hypothesis," he said, sweeping his stick wide in a welcoming gesture.

Kirk looked to McCoy with wide, pleading eyes.

"No," the Marshal said without his gaze leaving Spock.

"C'mon, Bones! I can do this, I—"

"We don't have time to waste on a pissing contest," McCoy muttered. "Spock needs a co-pilot, not a sparring partner."

"You do not think your best and brightest is skilled enough?" Spock tilted his head thoughtfully.

It was a petty, childish comment designed to elicit a specific response, and it worked. McCoy's face turned cherry red and blotchy. He yanked the padd out of Kirk's hands.

"Go get him, kid," he said.

Kirk practically leapt into the ring, toeing off his boots as he went.

"Hey, remember, this isn't a fight. It's a dialog," McCoy called from his spot at the edge of the mat. "At the very least, maybe it'll give Spock a chance to loosen up."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't ruin his pretty face," Kirk drawled, retrieving a stick from the floor and giving it an expert twirl.

Spock refused to rise to the bait. "I should warn you," he said instead, "I have no intention of holding back." Vulcans were physically much stronger than Terrans, a product of their unique metabolism.

Kirk shrugged and thumbed his nose. "Then neither will I."

The bout began by unspoken agreement without a signal from McCoy. Spock surged forward, his stick stopping a bare .25 inches from Kirk's forehead.

"Point," Spock said.

Kirk moved like lightning, knocking Spock's stick out of the way and touching his own to Spock's exposed throat.

"Point," he panted. "Better watch it."

"Stay focused, Jim," McCoy called from the sidelines. Kirk visibly straightened, backing away to his corner. Spock circled him only to find he was being stalked in return. The way they moved together, a fluid grace—Spock hadn't felt this freedom in ages.

Two swift thrusts, a parry from Kirk, feet dancing until Spock had him on his back, stick pressed firmly across his neck.

"That's two," Spock said unnecessarily.

"Yeah," Kirk grunted. He lifted his hips and flung Spock aside, using his legs to pin him. His stick hovered above Spock's nose. "Two."

The crowd was cheering now, shouts of surprise echoing through the Shatterbase. It was little wonder they reacted that way; there were no Human/Vulcan jaeger teams in existence, and they were watching the first emerge. Spock paid them no attention. He was too caught up staring into those blue eyes.

 _Do you feel that?_ He willed his thoughts toward this strange, strong Human. His skin tingled where their chests and arms pressed together. _Do you feel me?_

Kirk blinked, his eyes slow and glossed-over. His throat worked like it was a battle to speak. "I—"

"That's enough," McCoy roared. "The trials are over."

Spock and Kirk struggled to their feet, dazed and panting. "I agree, Marshal," Spock said. "Clearly, I have found my co-pilot."

Kirk looked at him wildly, a gleam in his eyes that Spock wished to see again.

But the light died at McCoy's next words: "Kirk will not be assigned to the Enterprise. Spock, report on deck at sixteen-hundred. I'll assign you a co-pilot from the list of candidates then."

Kirk surged forward. "But Bones, you saw how we—"

"That's an order, Jim," McCoy said, low and dangerous.

Kirk seemed to deflate as Spock watched, going from a spark of energy to an empty shell. "Yes, Marshal." He stood trembling in front of the murmuring crowd, his face growing red. Spock could feel the tears threatening to spill from behind his own eyes at the sight. "Permission to be dismissed," Kirk said softly.

"Granted," McCoy said.

Kirk dropped his stick to the ground, grabbed his boots by their frayed laces, and left without so much as a glance towards Spock. The crowd parted for him as he made his exit. Chekov and Sulu shook their heads, the Bloodwives whispered to each other behind fanned hands, and the Pike siblings stood by, silent and stony. Spock watched Kirk go until he disappeared around the corner. Then he rounded on McCoy, restraining his anger by only the barest thread.

"Marshal, I do not understand. Kirk was by far the most promising candidate. We—"

"I said no. Now get back to your quarters and suit up." McCoy's face showed not a drop of mercy.

Spock had no choice but to depart in silence.

~@~  
He found Kirk in the corridor, lacing his boots with angry jerks of his fingers. Spock's shadow cast a pall over his golden head, and he looked up with those blue eyes, now stained red from emotion.

  
"Excuse me, I have work to do," Kirk muttered, rising to push past Spock.

  
"Kirk, wait." Spock reached out and grasped his elbow. That same syrupy contentment tingled up his arm at the contact. From the look in Kirk's eyes, it seemed he felt it too. "What occurred in the trial—we are meld compatible. You felt it too, did you not?"

  
"Of course I did," Kirk breathed.

  
"Yet you do not fight for your rightful place on board the Enterprise."

  
"You don't understand. Bones—Marshal McCoy, I mean—he doesn't think I'm ready." Kirk's head was bowed as if under a great weight.

  
"A true jaeger pilot does not operate on blind obedience," Spock said, unable to keep the bite out of his words.

  
Kirk glared at him, a fighter still. "It's not obedience. It's respect. And I'm not a real pilot; at this rate, I'll never be one." He pushed past Spock and reached for a doorknob, struggling with the lock.

  
Spock cleared his throat. "Those are my quarters," he said.

  
Kirk straightened and turned, not making eye contact. "I knew that," he seethed. Spock noted his blush with a raised eyebrow.

  
Kirk had just gotten turned around, apparently. The door across the hallway slammed shut. Spock was left in the corridor, alone with his thoughts. He glanced up and found McCoy standing still as a statue at the end of the hall. Incongruously, a small red sneaker was clasped in his hands.

  
"Thought I told you to suit up," he said. Spock saluted and made his way into his own quarters, wondering at what he'd seen.

 

~@~

  
The flight suit was different than the previous one Spock had worn on his missions in the Seleya. This one was black where the other had been white, polished to a sheen where the other had been scuffed and scarred. It was lighter and stronger, a definite improvement over the previous generation. Still, it was uncomfortably tight on his body as he walked alone to the drop deck.

"Need someone to screw yer spine in, you devil?" a familiar voice rang out.

"Mr. Scott," Spock acknowledged before he even turned around to face his old engineer. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"A pleasure? From a Vulcan, that's almost poetry, isn't it?" Scott laughed while he hoisted the neural spinal column out of its protective case, vertebrae grasping blindly for Spock. "Turn around, let me wire you up." Spock did as instructed, jolting with the long-forgotten sensations of the neural pathways lighting up under his suit. Scotty continued his easy banter. "So tell me, lad, how've you been?"

The Human tradition of little throwaway comments: it was something Spock had never quite mastered in his months serving in a diverse Federation team. However, he felt it only polite to try. "I have been pursuing scientific work for the VSA. And yourself?" Giving the other conversational partner a chance to answer their own question was, Spock found, a particularly important tenet of this 'small talk.'

"Oh, you know me. Working on these ladies as best I can." He gestured to the jaegers in the hanger. "Tried to finagle some time for my own projects, you could say. I'd hoped to figure out wireless piloting but," he clicked his tongue, "I cannae find a way to get around the interference problem, not to mention the distance issues."

Spock allowed Scott to complete the necessary maneuvers on his spine. Time for a new topic, then. "Do you know which of the candidates will be joining me in the test meld today?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Aye. He's been waiting for you since fifteen-hundred, can't seem to leave the deck for a moment. Probably thinks I won't let him back in." He chuckled.  
Not one of the three female candidates, then. It did not matter, Spock told himself. Whomever McCoy chose, it would not be the same as moving in tandem with James Kirk.

"Finally!"

Spock looked up to find Kirk standing before him, clad in his own black flight suit, helmet cocked against his hip.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Kirk said with a smirk.

Spock just stared.

Kirk scratched a hand through his mussed hair. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"In a few moments, you will have access to all of my thoughts. Words, at this point, are illogical," Spock said.

Scott finished up with his spine. "There you are, Spock." A big, warm hand slapped his back. "Ready to drive. I'll talk you two through the drop myself. Good luck."  
"Thanks, Scotty." Kirk gave him a wave goodbye.

The interior of the Enterprise's head was cool and dark, strangely quiet after the noise of the Shatterbase deck. Spock took the left side for himself, murmuring, "I hope you do not mind. My right arm is not at optimal levels." Under his suit, the scars still lined his skin from wrist to shoulder and down his flank.

"Yeah, I know," Kirk said, taking his position on the right. Of course, Spock thought. He'd studied every battle, including his final one.

"James—" he said just as Kirk blurted out, "Hey listen, Spock—"

They stopped. Stared. Spock gestured to his co-pilot. "Please, after you."

Kirk sucked in a breath. "Before we meld, I just want to tell you—I felt attraction for you, okay?"

"Felt?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, yeah, _feel_. Present tense." Kirk shoved his helmet over his head. His next words were muffled into the inter-ship comm. "Hope those thoughts don't weird you out. Sorry."

"Apologies are not necessary," Spock said, putting on his own helmet, "as you will surely see in a few moments."

He felt more than saw Kirk's jaw drop in answer. "You too?"

"It is not unusual for non-familial bondmates to share affection and desire. It is better for us to state such things honestly, without shame. Otherwise the bond may never form," Spock said. He checked the power levels in the drop mechanism. Sufficient. "Why? Do my reciprocal attentions displease you?"

"No! I guess I just—" Kirk leaned back in his harness, letting the bipedals lock around his boots. "I was so sure you didn't feel the same way. Or, more like—" He craned his head back to catch Spock's gaze. "I thought maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see," he said with a slow grin.

Spock looked over at him, a blue-eyed Terran under the glow of yellow lights. As much as he wanted to indulge in the warmth he felt flowing from his soon-to-be bondmate, he needed to survive the coming war first. "What you see is very real," he said.

"Good to know." Kirk said, his eyes sparkling.

"Pilots, strap in," Scotty's voice called over the comm. Spock completed his checks and stepped into his own bipedals at Kirk's side.

"Ready to meld, gentlemen?" McCoy asked.

"Affirmative."

"Bring it."

"Neural handshake in ten," McCoy said, initiating the computer countdown.

"Do not fight the meld," Spock said off-comm to Kirk. "Allow the memories and emotions to wash over you. As long as we are connected, you can find me. I will keep you from drowning."

"Don't drown. Got it," Kirk said.

"—three, two, one," the computerized voice said. "Handshake initializing."

Spock closed his eyes and

_his mother's Human touch a cornfield in summer the way the light hit the glassy towers of Shi'Khar in the afternoon a vintage car red and beautiful muffled laughter in thick robes the stars against a blanket of dark blue velvet the first sight of the mist-shrouded Shatterbase a stolen glimpse of Spock's scarred skin from the cracked-open door you were **spying** on me I couldn't help it okay no matter no matter my scars are yours to see mine too you know that right mine too_

"Meld looks good," he heard Scotty say as if from a great distance.

_good the meld is good my mind to your mind we are_  
 _one_  
 _two_  
 _three_

"No...."

_T'Pring looking up through the crack in the hull, the kaiju ripping her from the cockpit, her hands reaching for Spock her scream her scream green blood pouring down his_

"No!" Spock opened his eyes and looked around to find where the shouts were coming from. They came from him. His throat, raw. His arm, aching. He pulled his helmet free with a grunt. Alarms blared through the cockpit.

"Ranger Spock, come in! You're both out of alignment!" McCoy's growl carried through the klaxons.

"I—I broke the meld; it was my miscalculation. We—" He looked over to Kirk. "No," he whispered.

Kirk stood stock-still in his harness, his eyes staring sightlessly ahead of him.

"Where's Kirk?" McCoy asked.

"Sir, I don't have a fix on him! He's drowning, I can't get him," Scotty's frantic voice overlapped McCoy's.

"James," Spock said. "James, can you hear me? You need to come back."

No answer.

Ignoring Scotty's curses and McCoy's shouts to stand down, Spock pulled his helmet back on and concentrated. The meld was still there, still tapped into Enterprise Alpha's system. He slipped into it as if it was a pool of water, and he searched for Kirk beneath the surface.

_a far-off land a feeling of excitement a chance to join the fleet and terraform and one day maybe a ship his own ship a thing that will carry him far away_

Spock opened his eyes, and he was no longer in the cockpit. He was on a strange planet. Memories that were not his supplied its name: Tarsus IV. Fourteen years ago. Spock remembered now. The disaster that killed over half of the colonists. Men, women, children—

It was snowing. No. Ash was falling. It clung to Spock's visor in gritty flakes. He looked up at the buildings, empty and broken. Rubble. Bodies. Both littering the ground.

A small shape moved through the dust, coming to huddle behind what looked like a mangled replicator. Blue eyes peered out from the dirt- and tear-streaked face. The child wailed, incoherent with fear.

"James?" Spock reached out for him, but the child couldn't see or hear him. Monstrous footfalls echoed through the ruined encampment. The shadow of a kaiju rose above the colony, a gigantic category two with a head like a snake and a body like a winged crab. Jim shrieked in terror.

"Listen to my voice," Spock told the child. "This is not real. This is only a memory. Nothing can hurt you here."

The kaiju roared and the boy clapped his hands over his ears. Still Spock persisted. "You are my bondmate, you are a Ranger. You are not helpless, James. Please, hear me!"

The beast thudded closer. Closer. The boy shielded his head with his arms. Spock heard the unmistakable groan of a jaeger's joints creaking. His eyes widened. Kirk was still plugged into the Enterprise's systems.

"Phaser cannons online," a smooth computerized voice whispered in his ear.

Spock was half in the cockpit, surrounded by a cacophony of alarms as Kirk lifted his hand and commanded the Enterprise's weapons systems; and he was half in the broken colony with a small boy coated in ash.

"Cut power!" McCoy was shouting. "Cut all power!"

"I'm trying, sir!" Scotty cried. "Switching to manual override!"

"Phasers powering up," the computer said. If Kirk let loose a barrage inside the Shatterbase, their entire operation would be destroyed. Spock's controls weren't responding; the jaeger was completely in Kirk's hands.

Spock kneeled on the filthy Tarsus ground in front of the boy who had been Kirk, willing him to hear his words. "I need you back with me, James. Please. Let this end."

The kaiju in Kirk's memory loomed closer, its gaping maws hanging over their hiding place. The boy was shaking, crying for his father and his brother and then—  
The drumbeat of helicopters. A dark cloud passed overhead. No, not a cloud: a jaeger, borne by a squadron of drop-choppers. The machine hit the ground with an earthquake rattle, and the kaiju turned to attack.

The boy sobbed. The battle raged. Spock watched through squinted eyes. The insignia on the jaeger's chest was familiar, but with all the ash choking the air, he couldn't get a good view. Then the monster fell. And it was over.

"Phasers powering down."

Spock watched the boy stand, clutching a red sneaker to his chest. The other shoe was still firmly on his left foot, but he made no move to step into the right. Instead he staggered out into the open, into the swirling dust.

The kaiju carcass lay across the colony buildings, pierced by their steel supports. The jaeger stood sentinel beside it.  
The hatch opened and—

Spock blinked. One of the Pikes, the brother. He stood unsteadily on the top of his jaeger, balancing as best he could on a bent, broken leg. The sister followed him, silent and stern.

The boy fell to his knees in the dust. The red sneaker dropped from his nerveless fingers. His chest was slick with red blood.

A blur of activity. Another set of pilots, this time with patches on their flight suits that said 'MBAYA GAGE' in blue. The woman lifted Kirk into her arms while the man commed for medical to divert from Pike. Another familiar face appeared, though it was younger and less lined with worry.

"Just breathe, kid," McCoy said as he injected the child with a stabilizing agent. "You're going to make it today, I promise you that." He stroked the sooty head of blond hair. "Not going to let anything else happen to you."

Ash fell. A boy bled. Pilots gathered around him and prayed.

Spock woke up. They were back in the cockpit, the systems all dark. Kirk must have shut them down solo. Without sparing a moment to marvel at this unprecedented display of neural strength, Spock unclipped his harness and made it to Kirk's side just in time to catch him as he slumped toward the floor.  
Spock cradled the body in his arms and swallowed the emotion rising in his throat.

"Meld sequence disengaged. Would you like to try again?" the computer said sweetly.

~@~

They waited together in the corridor outside McCoy's quarters. From the shouting that was currently reverberating through the steel doors, the other jaeger teams clearly had a lot to say to their Marshal. Spock spared another glance at Kirk, pale and wane yet still standing at attention.

"I will take full responsibility," he said.

Kirk bit his lip for a full minute before saying. "I was the one who screwed up, Spock. Not you."

"I allowed my previous bondmate's memories to interfere with our meld. The error was mine."

The Human's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I felt her die."

Spock's heart stuttered in his side. "No one could be expected to process that type of neural load during their first meld. I was foolish not to consider it." He paused, then said quietly, "You relived your own pain in response to hers and mine, and for that I am truly sorry."

"You saw it, then?" Kirk asked. "Tarsus IV?"

Spock nodded. "I take it the Marshal was the chief medical officer during that mission. And the Gage's pilots?"

"The original team, Uhura's parents. Bones practically raised me, but the Uhuras and the Pikes were like my aunts and uncles." He hung his head. "They let me tag along from base to base. Trained me when I begged them to, taught me everything I know. Which I guess isn't enough."

"Do not speak this way," Spock said, grasping Kirk's hand tightly in his own. "You are my equal, and if you say you are not adequate, you insult me as well."  
The smile came back to Kirk's lips then, if only a shadow of it. "Right. Sorry, won't happen again."

"See that it does not," Spock said gently. The shouts in the next room grew in volume, and the hinges creaked as someone opened the door. He squeezed Kirk's fingers before releasing his grip.

Gaila stomped out of the Marshal's quarters, slamming the door shut behind her. "Pissants," she hissed in her native tongue, or a word very much like it.  
Kirk rushed to meet her. "What are they saying? Is Bones—?"

"Jim." Gaila held up a palm, stopping him in his tracks. "My wife calls you brother. She loves you. Everyone in that room loves you." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the door. Her fiery eyes softened by degrees. "You may not agree with them; heavens know I don't. But they just want to keep you safe."

Spock felt James' pain as if it was his own, a slick knife in his ribs.

"They're _grounding_ me?" Kirk passed a hand over his face, leaving it pressed over his mouth as if to stem any more words from coming. Spock knew, somehow, that his voice would crack if he spoke again, so Spock spoke for him.

"This is completely illogical. I was the one who caused the meld-break. I should be punished, not James."

Gaila quirked her lips. "Oh, it's 'James' now?" Gaila tapped one perfectly red nail against his chest. "You've known Jim for a few days, Vulcan. You think you know what's best for him?"

"I know he has the makings of an excellent pilot," Spock said. He gave her intruding hand a cool glance. "He controlled the jaeger's weapons systems solo. Such mental strength is rare, not many could duplicate it."

"Yeah, just one other, right?" Gaila squinted at him appraisingly. "Didn't seem to help you much when it came down to it."

Kirk snapped to attention then, wedging himself between Spock and the Orion. "Don't talk to him like that," he snarled. "You don't _ever_ —"

"Break it up!" a voice barked from the doorway of the Marshal's quarters. Spock looked up to find Uhura advancing on them with McCoy and the Pike twins close behind her. "For shit's sake, Gaila. What's the matter with you?"

The Orion backed off with a grudging sniff. "Sorry. I just don't know what to do with all the feedback you're giving me." The admission seemed to cost her. She slapped her hand against the metal wall of the corridor with a grunt of frustration.

Uhura dropped her eyes to the floor. "None of us do," she said.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Here's a start. You." He pointed at Kirk. "Get back to your station and keep working on that nexus data. I want precise coordinates by oh-nine-hundred. Mbaya Gage needs to know where she's going."

"Sir—" Spock said, stepping forward.

"You," McCoy pointed to Spock, "can just stand the hell down."

"Marshal—"

"That means dismissed, Spock. And that goes for all of you," he barked at the assembled pilots.

It was Pike One who reached for Kirk's shoulder and broke the standstill. "Come on, Jim," she said as she led him away. The others followed with sneaking, pitying glances at Spock as they went.

Spock remained, though McCoy ignored him in favor of re-entering his quarters. Undeterred, Spock followed. "I wish to lodge a formal complaint," he said. "Ranger Kirk and I should be in the Enterprise. This mission needs our full support."

"I thought it was time." McCoy's voice was rough, tired, heavy as steel. He reached into his cupboard to retrieve a cup and bottle of Orion brandy. The liquor smelled sickly sweet as it hit the glass. "I was wrong. My job is to keep you idiots alive; I can't let you out in the field. The boy's not ready."

"With respect, sir, he is not a boy any longer. He is a pilot. You do him and the crew a disservice by holding him back from his calling," Spock said, voice rising.

McCoy slammed his glass down on his desk, dark liquid sloshing over the rim to coat his fingers. "What the hell kind of _calling_ is this? To die in some tin can while the world goes to shit around you?" He stopped, licked his lips. Spock breathed and tried not to allow the anger or black betrayal to show on his face. McCoy dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm tired, Spock. Just let me get three hours of shut-eye and I'll be better, scout's honor."

"This is not a function of sleep deprivation," Spock said quietly. "You wish to protect that which you love, but you cannot. Not to any degree of certainty. I...understand this. Better than most."

McCoy's finger was suddenly in Spock's face. "Don't act like you know my whole big sob story, you overgrown garden elf. I am your commanding officer. I need your skills and your quick 'sir, yes sirs.' I do not need your sympathy, is that clear?" He turned his head and gestured to his ear, a silent prompt.

"Sir. Yes, sir," Spock ground out between clenched teeth.

"Music, that is. Now go give Kirk a hand with those numbers. Might as well put that Vulcan brain to work."

~@~

The door opposite and identical to Spock's seemed an insurmountable defense as he stood before it. He heard voices inside Kirk's quarters; his bondmate was not alone. Before he could decide whether to knock or leave, the door opened to reveal Rangers Chekov and Sulu, shrugging on their battered jackets in preparation for departure.

"Ah, Mr. Spock," Chekov said in his heavy accent. "We heard what happened during the test. We thought—"

"Give them a minute, huh?" Sulu said to his co-pilot in a quiet undertone. Chekov flushed and nodded.

"Right behind you, Hikaru." Then, when Sulu was a good distance down the hallway, Chekov whispered to Spock, "I know what it is to lose a—" Here he let loose a mouthful of Russian which Spock could not understand. "—that is, a bondmate. Maybe not in combat, but." A effusive shrug. "If you need to talk, I listen excellently."  
Spock blinked, reigning in the surprise he felt at such an offer made by, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. "Thank you, Ranger. I will bear that in mind." He glanced at Kirk's now-shut door. Chekov must have sensed his anticipation.

"Go. He puts on brave smiles for his friends, but he needs his co-pilot, yes?"

"Yes, of course." Spock accepted the friendly slap to his shoulder; Humans were naturally tactile, after all. Chekov left in the direction Sulu had gone, leaving Spock alone at Kirk's door again.

It opened before he could knock. Kirk stood there, hair mussed, clad only in a pair of standard-issue black cargo pants. "You going to stand out there all night?" he asked.

Spock took that as a welcome and entered Kirk's quarters. The room was as small and damp as Spock's own, but Kirk had arranged some personal effects to create a more pleasing environment. Photographs were stuck to the metal walls with putty in a sort of checkerboard pattern. Spock looked to Kirk for permission; at his nod of acquiescence, he clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward to examine them.

Some were crisp and new: Kirk and Uhura lounging on the forearm of an unfinished jaeger; the Pikes cradling a small, lopsided cake in their cupped palms, their lips pursed to blow out the traditional candle; the sun setting on the ruins of the Golden Gate Bridge; Scotty with his arm slung over Kirk's shoulder as they posed at the Enterprise's feet. But it was the older photographs, stained with age, that captured Spock's attention. Especially the one of Marshal McCoy, younger, hair darker, sitting in a collapsible lawn chair on what looked like a flight deck. James Kirk, barely more than nine or ten years old, was in McCoy's lap, his eyes shut, his lips parted in sleep, head lolling against McCoy's shoulder. Whoever had taken the picture had done so clandestinely, it seemed. McCoy was gazing down at the child in his lap, a sheaf of schematics forgotten in his hand.

Kirk cleared throat and busied himself at his computer terminal. "I was a cute kid, right?"

Spock thought of his own father, somewhere on New Vulcan. When had they spoken last? Three years ago? Four? Numbers usually came so easily to Spock, and yet this one eluded him.

Spock touched a reverent fingertip to the yellowed photograph. Some of Jim's memories were still inside his head from their failed meld, enough to show Spock that the photo had been taken in Manila, just before McCoy was deployed to Orion, where Jim would learn that obscure dialect. Where he met the girl who would become his almost-sister's spouse once Jim introduced them. The thread of Kirk's life lay woven in spirals that Spock could follow with his fingers and eyes. It was a heady experience.

Kirk moved away from his terminal to stand beside Spock. Close, but not touching. A puff of breath on the curve of Spock's ear. "I saw you as a kid, too. You were sad, and I wanted to tell you it was going to be okay. But you couldn't hear me."

"The memories seem very real when you are experiencing them, but they are mere reflections," Spock reminded him quietly. "I did not hear you because that was not me."

"I know. Still, I wanted to tell you." Kirk's hand was warm and tentative on his hip. So strange, how well they knew each other, but had not yet touched for more than fleeting, casual moments. This touch, though, was a private, intimate thing. Spock did not shy away from it. "It's going to be okay," Kirk said in his ear.

Spock remained facing the wall. If he turned and saw the heart-wrenching sincerity in those blues eyes, surely he would break, so he faced the wall. "How can you be so sure?" he asked. "No one has ever successfully targeted the nexus."

"Yeah, I'm working on that." Kirk's hand slipped from Spock's hipbone, leaving slowly as if the loss of contact was painful. "Actually, I could use a fresh pair of eyes. Want to look at the data I've collected so far?"

It was easy to slip back into a scientist's skin as opposed to a soldier's. Spock left the wall of photographs and moved to join Kirk on the edge of his thin mattress. They shared a padd between them.

"I've tracked the variations of the nexus' dilation for the past few years. It's probably some kind of wormhole technology that leads to the kaiju's homeworld, right?" Spock raised his eyebrows, at the similarities in their theories but remained quiet. Kirk continued. "But the dilation isn't random or natural; it consistently increases to allow bigger and bigger kaiju to pass through. And then, look." Kirk gestured to his padd's data streams.

Spock squinted at the numbers. "According to this, the nexus actually contracts between attacks. How is this possible?"

"Ah, well, see, I have a theory." Kirk flicked open a file array showing test results of various kaiju carcasses. Spock recognized some of his own kills in the list. "Whatever race is creating the kaiju, they're clearly advanced. Advanced enough, I think, to build a wormhole instead of relying on warp technology to get around. We've known since the first kaiju DNA harvests that they're all clones, right? So why would this insanely advanced race limit itself to one set of DNA for the kaiju?" The question was a leading one; Spock could see the answer in Kirk's determined face.

"Their DNA serves as a security function," Spock said.

An excited nod. "Exactly. The nexus only opens to kaiju. That's why previous attempts to hit the nexus failed. We didn't have the right key for the lock. The nexus was closed for us." Kirk looked over at Spock, his smile slipping from his face at Spock's raised eyebrow. "What? Why the weird—" he quirked his own eyebrow, "—look?"

"I merely wish to chastise myself," Spock said. "I knew you to be intelligent, but I did not understand the breadth of your faculties until now."  
Kirk could not keep the pleased grin from his lips. "So you think I could be onto something?"

"Your hypothesis is reasonable. We would need further testing to determine its validity, however."

"Well, we're kind of short on time," Kirk said with a frown. "My model predicts another attack within the next four days. A double event. And after that, it only gets worse."

It was difficult to imagine what could be worse than two kaiju attacking simultaneously, although Spock considered that three would fit the bill. "We should plot Mbaya Gage's path as soon as possible. The next attack will be our best chance at destroying the nexus."

"It'll go faster now that I have you to help me." Kirk pulled up a navigational schematic already in progress, then paused to look at Spock. "I'm sorry we won't get to take the Enterprise out. I wish I could experience that with you."

Spock brushed his fingertips against that warm, expressive face. "Perhaps when this battle is fought, I will share with you a mind-meld without machinery or wires."  
"A natural meld? Vulcans still do that?" Kirk leaned into the touch, resting his cheek in Spock's palm. "I thought that went out of style once the jaeger system was invented."

"The technology was developed based on our biology, yes. But the meld is very different outside a jaeger. I'm told it's more...intimate."

_T'Pring describing her night with Stonn, her hands gesturing lewdly, miming the touch of psi points, and Spock scolding her, saying there are some things even bondmates should not share—_

Kirk's hand rose to cover Spock's, keeping it pressed against his cheek even as Spock tried to pull away. "It's okay. Don't be afraid. I can take them, you don't need to keep them from me," he whispered.

Spock swallowed. "My memories—"

"Are a part of you. But they aren't you." Kirk turned his head, brushed his parted lips against the soft skin of Spock's wrist. "You're here right now. With me. And we're going to save the world, one way or another."

Such words and actions deserved to be reciprocated, but Spock found he could only clutch Jim's hand in his and kiss his fingertips in silent worship. That the universe had seen fit to give him another co-pilot—and one who could read his heart as well as his mind, at that—was beyond comprehension.

"We should concentrate on our task," Spock murmured into Kirk's cupped hand, "or else I may be distracted all evening."

A groan of displeasure. "Can't we be distracted for a few more minutes?"

"You know we cannot."

James released his hand with a sigh, and they set to work. It was hours later, in the middle of the night, when Spock lifted his head from where it had been pillowed on Kirk's shoulder while studying the padd. "What if there is more to them than a key to a door?"

"Hm?" Kirk was half-asleep, sprawled on his bunk but stubbornly refusing to close his eyes completely.

"The kaiju. Perhaps their shared DNA serves another purpose."

"Like what?"

"A meld of their own," Spock said. "In the same way that twins are more likely to be meld compatible, it could be that genetically identical kaiju share one mind. It would explain why they appear to attack so strategically while lacking traditional means of communication."

"Kaiju melding," Kirk whispered to the ceiling. "A hive-mind of monsters. It's like a nightmare."

"If I had time to conduct tests—"

"But we don't." Kirk yawned hugely behind his hand.

"Sleep," Spock said, passing a hand over Kirk's hair. "I can continue working."

"No. Sleep with me." Kirk wrapped an insistent arm around Spock's waist, urging him closer on the narrow mattress. "My brain won't shut down if it knows yours is still going."

"There is no need for your cajoling to be so fanciful," Spock said with more than a hint of fondness.

"I'm being serious. I can't keep my eyes open but I know I won't get any rest if I leave you to handle this." His warm face pressed against the side of Spock's neck. "Do you think it's our bond? Like it wants us to do everything together?"

"The possibility is fascinating."

A smile against his skin. "Good night, Spock."

Spock closed his eyes. _Sleep well, my bondmate._

~@~

The klaxon was loud in the small room. Spock jolted awake, his grip tightening on the Human in his arms. There was an uncharacteristic moment of confusion where Spock struggled to recall why he was there in Kirk's bed, but it passed as quickly as Kirk's own memories of the previous night flowed through his skin into Spock's mind. They had been sharing a dream, Spock recalled. A walk through a restored San Francisco and a new Ski'Khar, an impossibility that seemed only natural in their dream-state.

Kirk groaned and moved against him in an indulgent stretch. "What time is it?" Spock did not have an opportunity to answer before being interrupted by further noise.

"Warning, warning," the female computerized voice stated over the base's intercoms. "Incoming double event. Kaiju category four, codename Lipitah. Second kaiju category four, codename Stoneskin. All pilots, report to drop deck. Repeat: all pilots—"

"Do you think that means us?" Kirk asked.

They scrambled off the bed together and raced for the door.

McCoy was already hollering orders when they arrived on deck. "I want Fearless Horizon and Echo Defiant running point. Do not let those two uglies reach the base. Mbaya Gage, hold the perimeter but do not engage unless I give the order. We can't lose our fastest jaeger before we have a chance to drop that warp core on their damn heads."

The assembled pilots nodded and dispersed to their machines, leaving Spock and Kirk on deck. "Sir, Spock and I thought of something while we were working on the mission plans last night," Kirk began, stepping forward.

McCoy held up a hand. "No time for that right now, Jim."

"But sir—" Spock tried.

"You two can just stay where you are. Help Scotty with pilot coordination if you need something to do." And with that, the Marshal stalked off to his command post.  
Spock shared the restlessness of his bondmate; it was agony to be relegated to the engineering station, watching the three other teams drop into their jaegers while Enterprise Alpha stood empty in her dock.

"We should be going with them," Kirk muttered as he punched in the oxygenation sequence for the Gage. "The double event happened too soon according to my data. I don't like it."

Spock didn't bother suggesting that perhaps his calculations had been made in error. He had looked them over himself last night, and Kirk was right. The kaiju were speeding up their attacks, and that did not bode well.

"Defiant, Fearless, be advised," he said instead into the jaeger comm systems, "Lipitah is approaching your position fast, bearing zero-eight mark four."  
"Copy that, Shatterbase," One said from her cockpit. "Moving to engage."

"Mbaya Gage, heading to perimeter position," Uhura said. The Gage began striding out of its dock and into the rushing waters of the bay. "Try not to have too much fun without us."

"We'll think of you while pummeling that ugly face," Sulu laughed over his own comm.

"Cut the trash talk," McCoy barked. "I only want to hear status reports out of you, preferably kill confirmations, got it?"

A chorus of yes, sirs. Spock watched the rainbow display with knitted brows. The kaiju were huge, even for category fours. And the one they called Stoneskin—which looked like a cross between an eel and a lizard—seemed to be giving off a strange energy reading from the protrusions surrounding its mouth. Almost like—

"Fearless Horizon," Spock spoke quickly into his comm, "I believe the kaiju have evolved to—"

Too late. A bright bolt lit up the viewscreens and whited out everything for a long, horrifying moment before being followed by a sonic boom. Alarms blared, lights flickers, and Spock's hand found Kirk's without a second thought. Kirk blinked, now steady on his feet instead of falling as he'd been a moment ago.

"What the shit was that?" he sputtered.

Scotty shouted from his station. "Fearless is down, I'm getting nothing from Defiant. Holy hell, since when do the beasties shoot lightning!?"

"Chekov, Number One, report!" McCoy roared.

A crackle of static. "—shields at critical—Two, get your—Chris? Chris! Sir, there's no—"

"Fearless Horizon, left hemisphere offline," Scotty said.

Spock shared a look with Kirk. Pike Two was unconscious or dead, and either way that left Pike One a sitting duck in her motionless jaeger.

"Chekov here!" the Russian's voice came through. Screams soaked the background on his transmission. "Sulu is hurt, his leg—it's broken. We cannot move!"

"Oh, screw this," Uhura said. "We're going in."

"Stand down, Gage," McCoy ordered.

"We can't just sit here, Marshal," Gaila said. The Gage rushed forward. Spock watched her progress on his viewscreen.

"It's two against one," Kirk whispered. "They're going to get themselves killed." He looked over at Spock, and the determination Spock felt was mirrored in those blue eyes.

"Marshal McCoy," Spock called over the bustle of the engineering crew, "Enterprise Alpha requesting permission to deploy, sir."

McCoy whirled away from his command post to face them. "Are you serious? Now is not the time to send my rookie team into the biggest clusterfuck we've ever—"

"With respect, sir." Kirk stood at attention. "There might not be another time if we don't stop these kaiju soon." McCoy set his mouth in a firm line, and at that, Jim seemed to soften. "Let me protect you for once, Bones. Please," he said.

Their commander gave a heavy sigh. "Suit up, you two. All non-essential personnel, I want you out of here! Evacuate the base. Get whoever's left in San Fran into the shelters. Let's move!"

~@~

Enterprise Alpha walked like a dream through the waves. She pulsed with life and energy around them, a seamless fusion of their minds. That simple feeling—the one Spock hadn't felt in so very long—flowed through his blood. Right and true.

"She feels good," James said.

Spock nodded. Their meld made verbal communication irrelevant, but Kirk appreciated vocal reassurance. As the senior pilot, Spock did not mind providing it. "You are doing well," he said. "Are you ready to engage?"

A few kilometers ahead of them, the Fearless and Defiant stood dark and still. The kaiju Lipitah circled them, clawing at their exteriors almost experimentally before ripping off the Defiant's left arm and gnashing it between its teeth. Beyond that, Mbaya Gage was locked in combat with Stoneskin, her hands wrapped around its thick neck to keep its snapping jaws away from her hull.

"Born ready," Kirk breathed.

"Together, then." They ran in perfect harmony, their legs pumping in time to their heartbeats. Spock did not begrudge his bondmate's exhilarated howl of pleasure at the sensation; if he were more than half-Human, Spock may even have joined in.

"Uhura, we're coming, just hang on," Kirk shouted through the jaeger-to-jaeger comm.

"Jimmy? Who the hell let you out of the house?" Mbaya Gage sliced at the kaiju's shoulder with her razor-sharp elbow sword, but the creature's thick skin deterred any real damage.

"Yeah, you're welcome, sis. Number One, Chekov, do you read me?"

"Fearless Hori—I—copy—you receiving?"

"Barely, Fearless. Just keep your head above water for a few more minutes," Kirk said.

"Our communications are still operational, but not for long," Chekov answered. "Rerouting power to life support."

"Be advised: we are coming to your aid," Spock said.

"Damn right we are."

Spock pulled back his fist alongside Kirk. The blow shattered Lipitah's jaw, sending a mass of cartilage into the sea. The kaiju fell back several massive paces, dropping the Defiant's arm into the ocean. The Enterprise stepped between it and the injured jaegers.

"Hey Spock, I've got a great pun for this situation," Kirk said as he bent in tandem with his co-pilot to retrieve the severed jaeger arm.

"I am in your head, James. I have already heard all twelve possibilities you have concocted," Spock said.

They wound up and smashed the appendage across Lipitah's oozing face. "You didn't like the brothers-in-arms one?"

Spock allowed his wordless amusement to course through their bond. Kirk returned the favor with a wide grin, his teeth flashing white from behind his helmet.

"Hey newlyweds! Less yakking, more smashing," McCoy ordered through the crackling comm.

"Yes sir," they replied in unison.

The meld was solid, the fight, a dance. There was an acute awareness of their opponents and Mbaya Gage, but there was also, in the back of Spock's mind, the beautiful tingle of _James warm and lovely beside him in bed no fear only courage in the cockpit a complete trust in Spock forged into a weapon a blade sharper than steel—_

They held the Defiant's severed limb across the kaiju's slick throat, holding it underwater for a long, thrashing minute. After the creature went limp under them, Kirk turned to Spock with a grin.

"Should probably check its pulse to confirm the kill."

"Agreed." Spock twisted his wrist. The phaser cannon on his side powered up with a white hum of energy, then let loose a barrage into the kaiju's carcass. Alien guts floated in a neon blue soup on the surface of the ocean.

"No pulse detected," Spock said.

"Was that a joke?" Scotty asked over the base's frequency. "I didn't think I'd see the day when a Vulcan made a funny. Jim boy, I think you're scrambling his brain."

"Hey guys?" Uhura's voice came through frazzled and de-rezzed. "If you're finished over there?" Spock turned in time with Kirk to bring Mbaya Gage back into view. She was still holding off Stoneskin, but the kaiju seemed to be powering up for another attack, its eel-like jaws glowing with an energy build.

Seamless movement. Running the Enterprise at breakneck speed. Grabbing for the tendrils on either side of the disgusting, slavering mouth. Ripping them and the kaiju's electrical interference-producing glands from its head, like a farmer pulling a radish from the ground by its stalk.

They held Stoneskin, thrashing and screaming, in a tight headlock while Mbaya Gage blasted it in the side of its head with her phasers. The kaiju slipped under the gray waves in a heap and slithered out of sight. Spock hung in his harness. His breathing slowed to normal alongside James'. They shared a look, wordless and relieved.

"Enterprise, Gage," McCoy's voice crackled toward them. "Status report."

"Minimal damage," Spock said.

"We weren't so lucky." Uhura's voice was tense. Gaila broke in to add, "Right hemisphere shields are down."

"Give me a few days of repairs and you'll be able to tackle the nexus, no worries," Scotty said.

"Hey, we should probably collect some kaiju remains before we take the Fearless and Defiant back to base," Kirk said. "Spock and I think we might need them to open up the rift."

"Fine, but get Fearless back here first. We lost contact with her a few minutes ago. And can someone confirm that last kill?"

"Trying to sir, but it disappeared from the scanner, like there's some kind of cloaking—" Scotty cut off McCoy along with a shrill alarm. "Wait, new incoming! It's— My god."

"What? What is it?" Chekov shouted through the fuzzy line. "We have no sensors!"

Spock watched the readings on his screen grow and climb as the kaiju slithered from the rift. His eyebrow rose an inch. "A category five."

"Impossible. There's never been a five before," Gaila said.

"We've never seen a triple event either," Kirk muttered. He reached for the power switch, routing all warp power to the bipedal engines. Spock understood immediately; they'd need to keep up with the Gage as best they could. He set to switching his own hemispherical controls as well.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do not engage," McCoy said. "Retreat, damn it!"

"No. We do this together," Kirk said.

Spock nodded. "Or not at all."

The kaiju broke the surface on their two o'clock, 27 kilometers away. It was massive, easily twice as big as the Stoneskin. Its anvil-shaped head swayed from side to side, blinking six snakelike eyes at them.

"Got to agree with the rookie, Marshal." Uhura's line buzzed. "I am not turning my back on this thing."

A thought formed in Spock and Kirk's brains at the same moment. Kirk spoke rapidly into his comm. "We do it now. The mission, the warp core drop. This might be our only chance to get to the nexus while it's still open."

"Mbaya Gage isn't carrying the warp core right now, genius. It's still sitting here on the flight deck," McCoy growled.

"Then we will eject the Enterprise's warp core into the rift," Spock said.

"Are you crazy?" Gaila shouted. She and Uhura were powering up their phaser cannon. "Impulse power won't get you out of there in time. You'll be caught in the blast."

"And there's the small matter of the category five that's closing in on you like the devil himself," Scotty added. "I'm looking for a weak spot but the thing's built like a tank."

The monster let loose a screech that shook the Enterprise's hull. Spock stared at his screen's readings, trying in vain to find a feasible target on the kaiju's armored body. "Its primary and secondary brains are set far back in its skull, too well-protected for a traditional attack. I theorize we could deal a mortal blow to its three hearts if we could strike them all simultaneously."

"You'd need, like, twice the firepower of your phaser cannon for it to work," Sulu gasped over the comm.

"Two-point-six times the firepower would be more accurate, Ranger Sulu," Spock noted.

"Whatever it is, your plan won't work. Damn it, we're just sitting here waiting to die!"

Spock saw the flash of the idea as it formed in Kirk's mind. An insane, brilliant idea that he was humbled to have witnessed. He saw Kirk staring at him through his helmet's visor with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Perhaps you will not have to, Mr. Sulu," Spock breathed.

Kirk commed back to base: "Scotty, that little project you've been working on? The wireless piloting system? I need you to switch it on. Now."

"But Jim, it's not functional! Even if we could get you back to base to pilot the jaegers wirelessly, it only works at a short distance, and I cannae stop the interference from tangling proximal neural systems together."

"That's not a bug, Scotty, it's a feature," Kirk said. "Turn it on and meld all of us together."

"A seven pilot meld? That's insane." Marshal McCoy sounded absolutely livid. Spock could picture clearly the spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth.  
"Eight if Pike Two regains consciousness. Think about it, we can all share the neural load. We can get the Defiant working again, maybe Fearless Horizon too. If we all fire our phasers together, we might actually be able to kill this son of a bitch." Kirk licked his lips. "And if we can't, then we can at least get past him to shut the door behind him for good. I think it's worth the risk, don't you?"

"How can you be sure the meld will hold?" Gaila asked. "What if we're not compatible?"

"We're family," Kirk said simply. "We can do this."

Somehow, Spock believed in his co-pilot's simple certainty. He and James were one, and if James thought he could do this—hold them all together in a web of minds through force of will alone—than Spock would be there at his side. Their shared look confirmed as much.

"It is the best course of action," Spock said.

"You better be right about this, Jimmy," Uhura warned. "We're counting on you."

"Marshal McCoy?" Spock asked. He didn't bother giving word to his request. The Marshal sighed.

"Do it."

"Wire us up, Mr. Scott," Kirk said.

"All right, I think I've got it. Lord, I hope I've got it. Neural network connecting in four, three, two—"

Spock closed his eyes and

_mother and father removing their helmets and smiling it's their fifth kill and Nyota is_  
 _at a fencing lesson balancing the hilt on the tip of his finger and learning silence silence silence but_  
 _it's snowing his brother has frost in his hair and the coastline is peaceful and empty now that_  
 _leave her alone leave my sister **alone** or I swear to god I'll_  
 _will you marry me please say yes_  
 _always getting yourself into trouble Chris I can take care of myself_  
 _the curve of Spock's ear the way he looks in his flight suit the stance of his lean body on the sparring mat with the stick in his hands Spock always Spock_  
 _James_

  
Calm. Connected. Seven other voices in his head, seven other lives in his mind. And one calling him home.

Spock opened his eyes. There was no fear. They breathed and thought as a team, all eight of them (gratifying to feel both Pikes in the mental relay; they were injured but would survive with their help). Their bond was not based on total compatibility, Spock knew. It was only possible through their conduit: the blue-eyed _brother friend son compatriot t'hy'la_ who stood at Spock's side.

"Did it work?" McCoy's voice sounded so very far away.

"Meld looks...good, bless my soul," Scotty said.

McCoy groaned. "Will someone _else_ say something? Are you all drowning or what?"

Spock didn't bother to answer him. "Phasers online," the computer said. All eight pilots lifted their cannon arms and all four jaegers aimed their weapons in perfect unison. The kaiju advanced.

Later, Spock would have no memory of the direct hits or the category five's screams. He would have no memory of Stoneskin de-clocking on their starboard side and gnashing through the cockpit's hull. The only thing in Spock head was _James_ and _victory_ and _hold us together_.

Then the meld drifted away, piece by piece. Spock was aware of their tactics in a fuzzy, dreamlike way: the Pikes ejected from Fearless Horizon and left its shell to self-destruct between Stoneskin's jaws; the Defiant covered their escape with the last of its phaser power while the remaining kaiju, the category five, roared in anger; Uhura and Gaila piloted the Gage down into the sea beside the Enterprise with the unspoken intention of seeing their mission through while the kaiju were distracted. They took a piece of Stoneskin's tail, a prize clutched in their jaeger's fingers.

Spock turned his head, looking through his own eyes for the first time in minutes. The silence of the ocean was deathly. It was just Kirk in his mind now, just Kirk in the harness beside him. He was pale, gasping for air, two trickles of red Terran blood flowing from his nostrils to drip down his chin.  
"James?" Spock grabbed for the fading tendril of his bondmate's thoughts. The meld had been too much for him, had relied too much on his neural strength alone. He was hurting inside and out, like a tendon stretched too tight until it snapped.

Their instruments said the Enterprise was still 2.9 kilometers away from the nexus. Spock swallowed. He'd walked twice that distance solo before. He could do it again.

"Hold on, James," Spock said as he keyed in the emergency eject code for Kirk's hemisphere. "You will be safe soon."

"N-no," Kirk muttered into his bloody faceshield. "No, Spock." The bipedals raised, bearing him up toward the emergency ejection pod.

"The needs of the many..." Spock shook his head. "I need not say it; you know my thoughts. There is no other way."

_I loved you, while I lived. Know that._

"Stop!" In a burst of energy, Kirk tore a damaged piece of armor plate from his thigh and jammed it into the pod's hinged gears. The mechanism ground to a halt, and the computer gave a stern, "Emergency pod malfunction. Ejection aborted."

"Fuck no-win scenarios," Kirk hissed. "We do this together, remember?" He slammed his hand against the manual override brake and dropped back into his harness. Through the glare of his helmet's shield, he looked like an ancient Vulcan warrior smeared in blood.

Spock stared at his co-pilot, his lips parted. He warred with himself: he wanted this man close but he also wanted him alive.

Kirk sensed his thoughts through their meld. "No one is dying today. Now _walk_."

Spock could not argue in the face of such determination. They stepped together, their damaged jaeger letting loose sparks and fluids as they moved across the bottom of the ocean. Ahead of them, the nexus glowed an eerie, alien blue.

"Enterprise, are you almost at the target? We're holding off the cat-five but I'm not sure how much longer we're going to last," Uhura shouted across the comm.

"Give us five more minutes," Kirk said. His fingers flew across the keypad in front of him, programming complicated maneuvers into the Enterprise's systems. The core would eject on a timer at the same moment the hand mechanism would release the chuck of kaiju flesh; hopefully by the time the core detonated in the nexus, they'd be in their ejection pods and a safe distance away.

"You've got maybe three!" Gaila said. "It's coming for you! We're at 34% power; we can't intercept."

Spock wiped a spray of coolant from his sensor display so he could read it. "Kaiju incoming. Impact in 1.17 minutes."

"Screw the calculations," Kirk said, fingers flying over his screen. "We have to drop her."

The kaiju appeared over the underwater ridge trailing streams of blue blood, its cries carrying through the saltwater at sonic decibels. A moment of clarity in the long battle: it was the simplest thing in the universe for Spock to turn in unison with Kirk, lift his arms with Kirk, grab the monster with Kirk, and fall over the edge of the rift with Kirk. They were together, and that was all that was needed to see the mission through.

"Manually setting warp core to self-destruct," Kirk shouted over the flurry of warning alarms. Saltwater gushed around their feet; the hull must have been punctured.  
"Sixty seconds to detonation," the computer said.

They might still eject to safety, Spock thought, if the kaiju's body blocked their pods from the blast. Kirk mentally agreed and ripped his shattered armor plate from the machinery above his head. They hit the escape pod controls simultaneously, but while Spock was lifted to meet his pod, Kirk stayed motionless in his harness.

"What—?"

"Right hemisphere emergency pod malfunction. Ejection aborted. Repeat—"

There was no time. Through a haze of sparking wires and steam, Spock watched Kirk's face tilt back to catch sight of him. The meld still held. Spock could hear his bondmate's thoughts as clearly as if he were speaking.

_I didn't mean to lie to you. I really thought we could all—_

"We go together," Spock growled. He thrust an arm down and grabbed hold of Kirk's hand just as

_the pressure of an air seal not enough oxygen for two calm the mind silence the body give James the air he needs floating higher the water so silent the explosion so massive the sky the sky—_

He came to slowly, crushed under some great weight.

"Spock, Spock, don't," James was sobbing against his neck. "Don't leave me here. Don't go."

Spock blinked away his second eyelid and lifted a hand to the back of Kirk's head. His bondmate was certainly strong for a Human. "I cannot breathe," he whispered raggedly.

"Oh my god!" Kirk flew back, still clutching at Spock but holding him at arm's length instead. He had removed their helmets, clearly, and they were bobbing along the surface of the water in the ruined remains of Spock's escape pod. "I thought you were dead! Your eyes were open but you weren't moving and I couldn't hear you—"

"I forced myself into a kind of hibernation. Otherwise, you would not have survived the ascent," Spock said simply.

"Why didn't you tell me that's what you were going to do?"

"I did. Just now."

"If you hadn't just saved the Earth, I would smack you in the face," Kirk hissed.

"Then it worked?"

A grin broke out over that bloodied, bruised face. "Yeah. Direct hit. The rift collapsed, I saw it. It's over."

The backup comm in the lining of the escape pod buzzed to life, crackling with McCoy's frantic voice. "Spock! Jim! Where the hell are you? Do you copy?"

Spock reached for the receiver but met resistance at Kirk's hands. He quirked an eyebrow at the other pilot. "We should inform the Marshal that we survived the blast," he said.

"Yeah, we will. Just—" Kirk cupped Spock's face in both his palms. "Would it be completely cliche to kiss you right now?"

Spock considered it. "I see no reason to withhold a mutually desired gesture of comfort merely because it is traditional."

"God damn it, you two!" McCoy's tinny voice shouted. "I'm sending out choppers! Can you hear me?"

Spock couldn't hear him, coincidentally. Not after James leaned forward and kissed him in the Human fashion while tangling their fingers together the Vulcan way. Their bond flared and warmed, a knot of emotion shared between them just as they shared their breath.

_Think the others felt that too?_

_Perhaps. I do not care._

Spock bit gently at Kirk's split lip, resting their foreheads together. The same thought flowed through them both: that this wasn't the end of the war, that their were still other planets in other star systems that they would need to defend. But they would go there, and they would fight those things. And they would win.

"Together?"

"Together."

**Author's Note:**

> Guys! Listen! I really liked Pacific Rim, I think that is obvious, hopefully. It wasn't a ~perfect~ movie but it was pretty great. I wish I could keep all the awesome things about that movie in this retelling of it, but I couldn't. On the other hand, I changed some things to suit me better and I hope they suited you too. 
> 
> Robots punching monsters, hooray! If you want to follow me on tumblr, [here I am](http://stuffimgoingtohellfor.tumblr.com/). Thanks for reading!


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